Snow Light

by Danielle Zinn

  Thomas pulled his hand away. “Killing Lawson wasn’t fair either.” He was surprised by the coolness of his own words.

  Suddenly, Richard jumped up, banging his hand on the table. “What makes you think I did this?” he spluttered.

  “You had the means, motive, and opportunity! There’s fencing equipment in your house, and you know how to use it. You avenged your son. The only thing you could do for him.”

  Thomas’s patience was wearing thin, and he was torn between arresting Richard right away and waiting until the next day. In the end, he knew he did not have any proof for his thesis.

  “I didn’t even know who he was! And I was in bed all night with my wife.”

  “When I open my bedroom window I can hear Allison snoring from across the road. It would be easy to sneak away, kill him, and slip back into bed. I need your car to be checked for blood traces.”

  Richard threw up his arms. “Fine. Search my house. I have nothing to hide.”

  “Believe me, we will.”

  Thomas got up and made for the door before turning around. “I have to ask you not to leave the area.”

  His neighbour had got up, as well, and was leaning on the windowsill quietly staring out onto the dark street.

  A soul sick from sin.

  Thomas closed the door behind him quietly.

  Standing in the middle of their little alley, he looked back at his neighbour’s house, wondering where the case would lead him and praying that the assumptions he’d been forced to make about Richard were wrong.

  Nevertheless, their friendship certainly had a crack.

  At home, he realised with a start that it was already nine o’clock. He hadn’t prepared any dinner for Sky and still had to talk to her about his visit to her teacher.

  Judging from the breadcrumbs on the kitchen floor, she had either made herself a sandwich or left a trace for him to follow.

  He quickly returned a missed call from Sexton, and told him about the developments of the day. He received some orders that he could not understand as the snow plough rumbled by outside, but he nodded and confirmed that he had understood. Of course.

  He then called a constable to pick up Richard’s car and search it thoroughly for traces of dried blood. Somehow, the victim had to have been transported to that pyramid.

  His eyes fell on the pile of folders that still needed to be worked through. And he had to get in touch with David to get an update on his health condition. And he needed to pay a visit to Rose Cleaves, the assisting doctor. And he needed to do the grocery shopping for the weekend and for Sky’s birthday. And Mrs Smetana had left him a message that her car had broken down and that she would not be able to make it the following day, so he had to do the cleaning, too. And then there were another thousand trivial things that needed his attention, as well.

  His head was spinning, and his heart started beating fast. He poured himself a whiskey and emptied the glass in one large gulp, leaning breathlessly on his kitchen island.

  Finally, his mind let go of all thoughts and pains and instead concentrated on the burning sensation down his throat.

  When he walked up the stairs, he felt alive again.

  Sky lay on her bed, with Barney across her tummy, and watched a music concert on her tablet. “You forgot to make dinner,” she said without looking up.

  “Sorry. But you obviously found something edible. I spoke to your teacher. Switch that thing off, please.”

  She put the tablet away and started fondling Barney’s belly; he yawned and stretched his legs.

  “You got an ‘F’ for the test and a one-hour detention with Ms Adams every day for the entire next week.”

  “I don’t care,” she replied, pouting.

  “I’m not done yet. No skiing or any other outdoor activities at the weekend. However, you can consider yourself lucky because that doesn’t mean that you have to stay inside. Tomorrow we’ll do a little trip to a small village near Stony Creek.”

  “What do we want there? We already live in a small village.”

  “I need to visit someone who might be vital in my investigation.”

  “Sounds exciting,” Sky replied, yawning.

  “It is indeed, and due to your exceptional behaviour today, you have secured yourself a front-row seat.”

  “You’re so unfair.” A single tear trickled down her cheek.

  Thomas sat down next to her and took her in his arms. She put her face on his chest, tears staining his shirt.

  “It’s not really easy right now, is it?” he whispered.

  Sky shook her head slightly.

  “We’ll talk to your dad first thing in the morning and see how he is, all right?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “And then we’ll drive around a bit, and I’m sure we’ll find a nice ice cream parlour somewhere along the way that is open at this time of year.”

  She nodded again.

  “Come to think of it, we’ll spend the entire day together,” he said, ruffling her hair playfully.

  Sky cracked a smile.

  “And next week is a new week where we can prove ourselves with better behaviour.”

  “Definitely,” she replied firmly.

  “You’ll be a year older, and that means you should act more responsibly, okay?”

  “I promise.”

  “Good. Bedtime for you now. Barney, out!” He pointed towards the door, but the dog looked at him questioningly, head to one side.

  “I told you time and time again you have to talk to him nicely.” Sky gave the dog a kiss. “Goodnight, Barney. Love you. Now go to your basket, go.”

  The dog jumped across Thomas’s leg without so much as looking at him and ran downstairs.

  “I’m seriously impressed. There might be a future for you. Goodnight, sweetie.”

  “You forgot the goodnight kiss. Barney wouldn’t go without that.”

  He planted a kiss on her forehead, and five minutes later, it was dark and quiet upstairs.

  Thomas plopped on the couch and stared down at his empty drawing pad. So many thoughts were swirling around his head that he found it hard to focus on drawing — a good sign, actually. But he did not want to let go of his embosomed rite. Not yet.

  Without really thinking about it, he let his hand draw a scene from that fateful night one year earlier on the crisp white paper. He did not have to concentrate on the drawing. Every single scene was etched into his memory.

  His mind, though, was busy mulling over the various suspects of the case and how to make a connection to their victim. He felt fairly sure the Bohemian boys had nothing directly to do with the murder. They simply had been at the wrong place at the wrong time, and the murderer had used their presence to his advantage. By stashing the drugs in the flowerpot, the first suspicion was on the Belka brothers or Bohemian drug dealers in general. But not much time had been gained by that.

  Then there was Vincent Dobson, the man who had last seen the victim alive and who could handle an epee. But what would have been his motive? He had benefitted from Lawson’s medical skills, was well paid for an askew old cabin, and apparently knew nothing about the physician’s ugly past.

  However, Kelly, Lawson’s longstanding friend, had a stronger motive. He had recognised Lawson and knew a fair deal about the man’s past. Also, he had lost his wife to Lawson in an undignified fashion. And he had admitted to going to Bohemia regularly for meals and food shopping.

  The mayor was on Thomas’s list, as well. He felt that the security of his village was threatened by the vagabond and did not hide his anger about Lawson’s presence in it. He did not have an alibi for the night, but would he really be the kind of person who solved a problem by eradicating its source?

  And then there was his neighbour Richard, of course, who undeniably had the strongest motive of all so far — avenging a son he barely knew. Thomas still had to prove that Richard knew who had operated on his boy some thirty years earlier, but if there was something to unearth, Collins wou
ld find it.

  Secretly he hoped there would be nothing.

  Last but not least, they had a list of fifty-two people who had been deprived of their organs by Lawson and his assistants… lives ruined forever. Not to mention the lives of their relatives and friends. Additionally, there was that mysterious grandchild, for whom they didn’t have the faintest idea of where to start searching.

  Thomas was wondering whether Mrs Smetana’s car had really broken down or whether she was avoiding him for some reason. He decided to talk to her as soon as possible.

  All in all, he could not think of any other case where they had such an extensive list of possible suspects, but then again, it did not make the investigation much easier.

  The following day, he had to find Rose Cleaves, the only member of the team still alive and able to talk. He hoped she could help them answer the questions they still held about the doctor and his patients.

  When his mind came back to the present, he looked at the scene his hand had drawn on the pad — a female body lying spread-eagled on cold grass, one of her dress straps ripped, and dead leaves and small branches entangled in her hair. But her face was a white blotch.

  Thomas was unsure whether he wanted to put the pain and panic back on it. The pencil was hovering above the paper when the ringing of his mobile made the decision for him.

  “Hi,” he answered absent-mindedly.

  “Hi. Just checking whether your neighbour has speared you or not,” Collins barked into the phone. Thomas shook his thoughts off and put the drawing pad aside. “I’m fine, but thanks for your concern.”

  “So? What did he say?”

  “Patrik was his son, he knew he had surgery when he lived at the orphanage, but he denies knowing that it was Lawson who stole one of his son’s kidneys.”

  “Hmm.”

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore. He has the strongest motive of all, and he has the necessary fencing skills and equipment but, somehow, my mind still refuses to accept that he could have killed someone…”

  “The two of you are close friends… of course that makes it more difficult. If you want to, I can arrest him.”

  “I ordered his car to be searched for traces of blood, and as soon as I get a warrant, we’ll go through his house. If we don’t find anything, we can’t arrest him.”

  “But he is the best suspect we have so far,” Collins threw in.

  “Yes, the prosecutor always loves to hear that. Why did you bring him in? Oh, well he was the best we could come up with… Collins, we need proof, even if it’s only one single hair of Lawson’s in his car. I know you want to leave this village as soon as possible, but we can’t just arrest someone for the sake of making an arrest.”

  “Fine. You’ll visit that nurse tomorrow?”

  “Yes. She wasn’t a nurse though, but Lawson’s assisting doctor. I hope she can tell us more about the surgeries and who they sold the organs to, or who else knew about it. We need some names. You know, I’m wondering whether Lawson was blackmailed by someone. There is still money missing.”

  “It might have been her.”

  Thomas’s eyes drifted off to his notepad and the faceless woman. “Maybe,” he mumbled.

  “Are you drawing again?”

  “Yeah, I did doodle a bit before you called… hang on, how do you know about my drawings?” he asked, gobsmacked.

  “Sexton told me about this therapeutic evening ritual of yours, and when I saw the drawing pad and pencil on your couch table, it was confirmation enough,” Collins replied casually.

  Thomas stared at his phone in disbelief, lost for words. How could Sexton share such personal information? Had he given Collins his therapist’s notes to read? But before he could reply, Collins went on. “Give it up. It’s getting you nowhere. The drawing, I mean.”

  “What I do in the little spare time I have is none of your business!” he snapped.

  “If I may say so, you should spend your time working through the files. But if you have spare time now, spend it on the things that can finally move you forward. You’re living in the past! Drawing that poor creature night after night isn’t going to bring her back. Besides, you don’t know why it happened… maybe there was a background story.”

  “I don’t need a background story! It was my obligation as a police officer to save her, or at least help her; I did neither. Why are you so obsessed with that case anyway?”

  “Whoa, believe me, I’m not the one who is obsessed! All I’m saying is that you don’t know what really happened.”

  “What really happened? Do you think what I saw wasn’t real? Unfortunately, the scar on my temple reminds me every day — that night was real. Scars are real, Collins, and so is the past!” he shouted.

  The line was silent for a long time.

  Thomas thought she would fire a dismissive statement back at him, but he could not even hear her snorting breath.

  “Just, please, stop wearing yourself down,” she said in surrender.

  Her voice was begging, something Thomas had never heard from Collins before. He decided to talk to her about it once the investigation was over… somewhere far away from police headquarters and formal restrictions.

  He felt there was something she desperately wanted to tell him but couldn’t.

  Thomas took a deep breath and nodded slightly. “Okay, fine. Next time I feel like drawing, I’ll think of an altogether different motive.”

  “Sounds good,” she replied quietly.

  “Is there anything else we need to discuss?”

  “No, there isn’t. Goodnight… sir.”

  “Goodnight, Collins.”

  He balled his drawing up and fed it to the flames. Then he went to his office and worked through two more files until well after midnight. Apparently, these poor devils were hooked to a dialysis machine cleaning their blood every other day for the rest of their lives.

  29

  THE road to Stony Creek was narrow and bendy, and it took Thomas twice the time he usually needed when travelling alone, as Sky’s car sickness kicked in after only a couple of miles driving. Of course, he had forgotten to bring any bags, let alone medicine, so he was driving extremely slowly and carefully, especially around the bends.

  After an hour, he noticed a recurring pattern of Sky having to throw up every twenty minutes, so after some good fifteen minutes, Thomas looked for the next turnout to stop the car on time.

  The passenger window was pulled down entirely to let the stink out and some fresh, cold air in with the unfortunate side effect that his hands had begun to freeze to the steering wheel.

  When she was not sick, Sky was moaning that this was the cruellest punishment ever, and Thomas was wondering whether he could put her on the train back to St Anna and pick her up from there.

  They passed by the ice cream parlour in silence.

  Two hours and several stops later, he finally pulled into Rose Cleaves’ road — a well-kept area with small houses or bungalows each surrounded by a patch of garden and a garage.

  Thomas noticed that only some houses featured light arches in the windows, a definite sign that they had reached the boundary of the Ore Mountains.

  The last houses came up on his left-hand side, but the road snaked further through a cluster of trees. His navigation device told him that his destination was only half a mile ahead.

  Another bend led them around some tall pine trees, and then the road stopped abruptly. In front was what appeared to be a small meadow with a house at its centre.

  In summer, this place could easily stage the location of a fairy tale movie. Thomas stopped the car and turned the engine off.

  To his right, Sky was slumped in her seat, a picture of misery. He gently stroked her pale cheeks.

  “It’ll get better soon.”

  “And how do I get back home?”

  Thomas was quietly wondering the same thing.

  “Your stomach is empty now; you can’t throw up anymore.” He knew that was not exactly tr
ue, but he decided to deal with that problem later. Before then he had to talk to Rose Cleaves.

  “Okay, listen. You can stay inside the car or walk around a bit but don’t go too far away. Do you understand me?”

  Sky nodded sleepily. She had already closed her eyes and made herself as comfortable as possible in the passenger seat.

  Thomas got a blanket from the boot and put it loosely around her. “Stay close to the car, please.”

  “Do I look like I’m going anywhere soon?” she replied from underneath her blanket.

  He could not supress a smile. The only benefit from the last two hours was that Sky was so worn out that she would not be able to cause much trouble within the next thirty minutes. Thomas hoped he would be done by then and made his way across the crisp, frozen grass towards the front door.

  Due to a special geological position, the temperature never dropped far below zero, and it barely ever snowed in the Stony Creek area.

  Dense clouds blocked out the sunlight, and although it was already nearly noon, the day had not become a very bright one. The low winter sun and the surrounding tall trees did their bit to cloak the house in front of him in darkness.

  The building itself was suitable for a small family or a retired couple, and was as well-kept as the houses he had seen before. The pale-yellow paint did not look older than two years, and Thomas imagined window boxes full of beautifully blooming flowers being put outside in the spring.

  In one of the downstairs windows, a small table lamp was switched on, but other than that, he found no sign of life from the outside.

  He rang the doorbell twice and heard it resonate within the house. The windows to his left and right had heavy curtains and, frowning, he imagined it being even darker inside.

  Thomas briefly turned around to his car and saw that Sky had not moved since leaving her.

  The house in front of him remained quiet, and he pounded several times on the heavy wooden front door, calling for Mrs Cleaves.